


Brightside

by Daimhin



Series: Save The Cat [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hate Sex, Masturbation, Non-Graphic Smut, POV Third Person, Past Ignis Scientia/Reader, References to Depression, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daimhin/pseuds/Daimhin
Summary: On Ignis' birthday, between his responsibilities, his nightmare of a relationship, and the party his friends threw for him, all he could seem to think about washer.A small background piece from Ignis’ point of view in Underneath.





	Brightside

**Author's Note:**

> Here's something small from Iggy's pov from chapter five of Underneath. It’s heavy on the angst. I’m fascinated with the idea of a highly intelligent person falling into an emotional and social trap with no painless way out, giving into a delusion or two. That’s what this tries to be.
> 
>  **Warning** for a slight non-con element in the smut if you squint.

Ignis, as of today, had been alive for a quarter of a century so far, but that fact wasn’t what had him waking with a smile. He opened his eyes to the dim, pre-sunrise light that came through his bedroom windows. His quarters at the Citadel were spacious enough that he could perfectly hear the echoing tick of his new espresso machine switching on from the kitchen.

Usually, he would be out of bed soon after his alarm sounded. In recent months, especially, he found little interest in lingering between his sheets because of who he shared them with. But she wasn’t there, his Regret. She had no access to his quarters, and he felt _secure_ in that.

So he lay there, stretching like a cat in his bed as he let his gaze roam sleepily around his room until it landed on the clock at his bedside table. He had approximately forty seven minutes to be in his office. His mind went to every point of his morning routine, calculating everything down to the minute as his hand found the erection that strained in his boxer briefs.

He found four minutes to spare, if he forwent reading the major headlines with his morning coffee. Just as well, he thought, taking himself in hand. He could get the highlights via his phone as he walked to his office.

His eyes slipped closed, his chest expanding with a deep breath. He imagined his Heart, with her hair wild from sleep and flirtatious smile that made both his heart and his cock ache. She’d been the last to share this place with him, to be in this bed and laugh within these walls where he now hid from his Regret.

Hand catching a loose grip, he slid it along his shaft from base to head. He kept slow, steady movements, picturing his Heart mounting him. She’d looked incredible the last time he’d seen her, knitted sweater and jeans that were shamelessly tight as she'd stepped into his office. He remembered her every curve and the way they’d felt beneath his hands.

He quickened his pace, thinking of how she’d kissed him at her mother's house. Her want for him had been palpable; she’d taken him to an empty bedroom, had apologized for coming on to him. How very honorable, he thought, for her to care that he was spoken for. She’d apologized even though she seemed to hate his partner, his Regret, nearly as much as he did.

Squeezing his cock in his fist, he let out a low moan into the quiet morning air. He should’ve pressed instead of fleeing. He should’ve taken her on the guest bed, his commitments be damned. The Tenebraen poem about coeurls, the flirting, the phone calls urging him to leave his partner. She couldn’t have been more obvious in her intent.

Her name fell from his lips as he ruined his sheets. He shook slightly, his hand stroking once, twice more before drawing away. The wet, sticky cover stuck to him uncomfortably in the comedown. He pushed it off, glancing at the clock —a minute to spare— as he slipped out of his undergarments and walked to his washroom.

He wasn’t smiling because it was his birthday. He was happy because today was going to be the day his Heart returned to him.

—

Three messages from his Regret were waiting on his phone when he picked it up on his way out of his quarters. One was a threat, a scathing promise that he wouldn’t get rid of her so easily. Another was a retraction, soothing and apologetic. Ignis knew not to trust it, moving on to the third with little mind. The last was a plea.

He stared at the words as he stood in the elevator up to the higher offices. The curt nature of her words found a way past his defenses, and he typed a response. She’d plead _My love, don’t do this,_ and he made it clear that he must.

He had no choice. His heart didn’t simply belong to another. His Heart was a moving, breathing, living embodiment of all that he’d ever wanted.

—

Noctis had never been a perfunctory obligation, even at his laziest, most indifferent periods. Lunafreya was a source of light that Ignis had grown to appreciate more with each passing day. He valued her presence despite fully knowing she aimed against him in the matter of his Heart.

Ignis remained on his toes, now more than ever, since her presence had become commonplace in the palace. She was to be his queen, but that didn’t mean she ruled his fate. His mood was far too elated to be sullied by her inquisitive looks.

Finding them both on his way to his office was abnormal. Ignis bowed in greeting, the case of files he’d been going over the night before held delicately in an arm. Noctis shuffled, and Ignis bit back a smile at the familiar dance of uncertainty as he admitted they were throwing a party for Ignis’ birthday as if he hadn’t already known.

There had only been one instance in which a surprise celebration had actually worked on him. Again he thought of his Heart. She had been there. She’d treated him like a friend before he’d deserved it.

“Just be at our place by six tonight, okay?” Noctis said, hands going into his pockets.

Ignis felt the urge to comment on his far too relaxed stance. He hoped that Lunafreya would do it for him, but she was forever charmed by the prince, even when he acted anything but princely.

“Of course, Noct,” he said instead, a genuine smile coming to him.

He could feel it, the way Lunafreya looked at him before they parted ways. She found his broader smile suspicious, as she probably should. Her brother was a stark white shadow that loomed over Ignis’ Heart ominously. Ignis was going to rid her of it soon. Lunafreya’s eyes pierced, her opposing view belied by her kind smile.

Ignis’ occasional nightmare would feature this very expression, his future queen a gatekeeper that held him at bay as his Heart was consumed by a twisted creature made of brilliant light. He’d call for her, but she would happily let herself be submerged into the glowing white flesh of the monster. Ignis wasn’t going to let that happen. His Heart still loved him; his Regret was what kept them apart.

He allowed himself a smirk, a corner of his mouth curling as Lunafreya left with Noctis. He wasn’t going to let Ravus simply have her, no matter what his Regret and Lunafreya seemed to want.

—

Lunch was taken with Uncle, although Ignis didn’t even pretend to touch his meal. The entire experience was stilted only because the last time Ignis had spoken to the man, he’d announced the end of his courtship with his Regret. It had been premeditated, the separation, so he’d announced it to Uncle before he realized removing his Regret would become such an ordeal.

For a brief period of a few months, there had been the idea of a baby. Ignis had found himself horrified and unintentionally excited in equal parts. He’d thought he would be a father. Unfortunate that it would’ve been born of his Regret, but it would’ve been his child all the same. Had it not been a mere lie to keep him by his Regret’s side, he would've found himself excited still.

Telling Uncle about the baby’s nonexistence had been humiliating. It had spurred the announcement of the separation that had yet to solidify itself. So Ignis sat across from his uncle at the table in the middle of the upscale restaurant with very little to say.

“How is your young lady faring?” Uncle asked, a frown pulling at his mouth. His eyes were in a constant state of concern, focused on Ignis with heavy interest.

“She’s well, I presume.” He said this, but he truly couldn’t know. He didn’t _care_ to know. “Work has kept me in the Citadel while she resides in our flat in the city.”

Uncle nodded, and Ignis absolutely hated it. So they were just going to pretend everything was well and good. That was the Scientia way, he supposed. Grinning and bearing, enduring through even the most atrocious of times.

“How are _you_ faring, nephew?” he asked, putting down his utensils to give Ignis a serious look. Ignis understood the deeper meaning of the gesture. _Are you in trouble?_ The thought was absurd. Of course he wasn’t. And even if, by some chance, he were… he could handle it himself.

“I certainly feel my age,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Just young enough to think I know everything, but old enough to know that isn’t true.”

“You’re always speaking like an old soul,” Uncle laughed quietly. He returned to eating, and the conversation fell into a recognizable predictability.

Ignis almost missed the questions and talk of the baby. He felt, with no small amount of resentment toward his Regret, that it was his own fault for falling for such an idea. Uncle, for all of his calm, collected demeanor that Ignis had always strove to match, had let himself become excited as well. This was apparent to Ignis now, as the conversation continued to wobble on familiar stilts.

The unaddressed subjects made every moment of silence deafening.

—

Work kept him thankfully occupied, and though it was his birthday, Ignis didn’t think for a second that he held an iota of greater importance when interacting with his usual obligations. His assistant had brought him a small pastry with his after lunch coffee, unrequested. It sat on his desk as he worked, his appetite still weak.

When the phone on his desk rang rather than his mobile, he didn’t suspect anything suspicious. But upon answering, his smooth, measured greeting befitting someone lucky enough to hold a job in the Citadel, he felt his irritation prickle.

“Iggy,” his Regret began. “At least talk with me in person.”

“We’ve nothing to discuss. I’ve made my decision.”

Her breath hitched, and he knew she was pouting, wherever she was. “That’s not fucking fair. You can’t just _end_ a courtship like this.”

“I believe I already have.” Ignis felt his stomach churn at the sound of her sniffling. He didn’t enjoy this. “You fabricated an elaborate lie to entrap me.”

“You were going to leave me.” She was crying now. “ _She_ might be blind, but I’m not. We’re always fine until she’s around.”

Shifting the blame to his Heart. How predictable.

“You stopped inviting me to events,” she continued in a whine. “Your friends won’t give me a chance, and your uncle hates me. I _knew_ this was coming.”

She was right. He’d planned to leave her at the moment he realized there was still a spark left between him and his Heart. He struggled throughout the false pregnancy with a plague of conflicting emotions constantly beleaguering him. He couldn’t bear the idea of abandoning the mother of his child, yet he lived for every moment spent with his Heart.

She was also wrong. His friends had given her a chance. Many, in fact. Gladio had taken a dislike to her the moment she referred to Prompto as “Noctis’ little pet”. Her disdain for the poorer classes wasn’t something shared among the group, although she seemed more than keen to retain the ideal despite Gladio’s persistent antagonism. Uncle didn’t hate her, not before the false pregnancy. Ignis couldn’t speak to that now.

“However people perceive you is your own doing,” Ignis said, picking up a pen to sign a form. May as well work while on the phone to make this circle jerk with his Regret feel less like a waste of his time. “If you’d anticipated our separation with such clarity, why all the surprise and fuss? Let’s be done with it.”

She sucked in a shuddered breath. “You don’t feel anything, do you? Did you _ever_ love me?”

Ignis’ writing stopped, ink slowly making a splotch on the form as he stalled. He had wondered it himself on several occasions, and he’d argued both sides. He’d loved her wit when they had first met. He’d been impressed with her cunning and professionalism when he’d initially expected her to be just another spoiled upper class snob. She was also that, but he’d loved that she was more.

But he didn’t think that he ever loved _her._

As he listened to her stifle a sob, he couldn’t bring himself to answer in one way or the other. He lifted his pen, placing it aside as he frowned at the damaged document.

“Do you really think,” she began, clearing her throat. “That leaving me will win her back? If she wanted you, she would’ve fought for you.”

Ignis pushed his glasses up, pinching the bridge of his nose. His moment of softness dissipated. “What I do is no longer your concern.”

“Oh, but sweetie, it _is_ ,” she said, her tone growing sharp. “Unless you pry this necklace from my neck yourself, we aren’t over.”

Working his jaw, Ignis bit back a sigh. They were circling the same discussion they had been for over a month now. “I’m not signing over my noble rights. Threaten me all you want.”

“I’m not—” she scoffed, and it sounded wet, a cry still caught in her throat. “I’m not threatening you, Ignis. I want us to work it out. I’m only sticking to the plan we made together. Your county was supposed to be _mine_ once we married.”

He’s been too hasty in all that he’d done with her. Sex on the first meeting, courtship proposal out of anger rather than love, and planning a future together just to distract himself from the pain of his Heart moving on. He hadn’t meant anything he’d told his Regret.

“It would benefit you to cooperate with me in this matter. That future—” He straightened his glasses, collecting himself because he needed to remain in his right mind despite the sound of her obvious return to crying. “That future isn’t possible. No longer contact me unless it’s to return the token.”

“Really?” She sounded so broken. “It’s your birthday, and I can’t see you?”

Ignis stared at the document on his desk, at the splotch of ink at the tail end of his otherwise impeccable signature. “As I said, it would be for the best—”

“Fuck _you_!”

The call disconnected. He put the phone into its receiver and slid his spectacles off entirely. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples. Just a moment. That was all he needed. Ten seconds to gather himself.

He slipped a hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, closing his fingers around a circular object before pulling it out. He looked down at the compact, a small smile coming to his face. He wasn’t going to allow his Regret to deter his intent. She could hold the necklace hostage all she wanted. Once he gave the compact back to his Heart, his Regret would lose what little leverage she thought she had. It would be social suicide to attempt a claim that they were still together if he was with another woman.

He opened the compact, turning it over in his hands. It was warm from his breast pocket, always resting against his heart. His earlier excitement returned.

It was his birthday, and he was going to get what he desired.

—

Ignis arrived at Noct and Luna’s shared quarters after his last meeting of the day. Although it was his own celebration, he brought a bottle of wine as a courtesy. He felt himself relax when he realized that only his closest friends were present. He had to fight that feeling of relief because he shouldn’t have so much tension around Lunafreya in the first place.

She wasn’t his enemy, by any means. But her absence alleviated a nerve that had felt pinched since he’d seen her that morning. Perhaps she’d sit the celebration out— no, he couldn’t hope for so much. He placed the wine bottle on the kitchen counter and tried to discern exactly when he began to project his distrust and dislike of Ravus onto his sister. He knew that needed to come to an immediate end.

These thoughts were set aside when his three dearest friends begin to call out birthday congratulations at him, the wine opening and a cake being revealed. Music played, Noctis made a gift of organizing his own meeting notes for once, and Prompto snapped photos of everything that happened.

Where, by all the gods, was his Heart?

She’d promised to be there. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she would come to celebrate with everyone. For a fleeting moment, he worried that his Regret had followed through with one of her threats. But no. Her words were as hollow as she was. Ruining his Heart’s life wasn’t what she wanted. It was ruining _his_ that appeared most prevalent to that viper.

His Heart was most likely on her way now. She did like to be fashionably late. She didn’t give a damn about what others thought or what was expected of her. That was, admittedly, one of the most freeing parts about her, and one of the things he was looking forward to inviting back into his life.

When the entrance door opened a half hour into his stay, he found himself disappointed to see only Lunafreya step into the royal suite. He maintained a pleasant expression, reminding himself that it wasn’t her fault that Ravus was attempting to steal away the love of his life. His Heart may have claimed to love Ravus, but Ignis understood, after analyzing the poem she’d shared with him in Lestallum, that she could love more than one person and had to hide her love for him oh so regretfully.

Tonight, he would make things right. She wouldn’t have to hide the feelings she still held for him. She wouldn’t have to express it through calls in which she urged him to leave his Regret. They could be together, pick up where they had left off a year prior. They could, if it wasn’t too rushed, continue what she had started in that bedroom on the winter holiday.

Luna didn’t meet his eyes when first walking past on her way to the kitchen with a small box in hand. Interest piqued, he followed her into the other room where he found Prompto picking at another piece of cake, making a huge mess of it. Ignis sighed, helping the younger man who backed out of the way and chirped a thanks.

From the corner of his eye, Ignis watched Lunafreya place the box on the counter top next to the opened wine bottle. Then, finally, she looked at him. Handing Prompto the piece of cake, he met her gaze with sudden unease.

She placed a hand on the box, the curve of her mouth only slight as she smiled at him. Her eyes were searching, not wide but careful. “She made a pie for you. She said you would know what it meant.”

He didn’t need to be told who she was referring to. His stomach became a mass of stones, heavy and jagged despite being shrunken and empty. He step toward the box, lifting the lid to look at her creation inside. Perfectly browned, just like she made it last time. He was impressed she even remembered his recipe.

He close the lid, still eyeing the box. He knew exactly what it meant. She was calling him out on his recent degenerative habits. It made him smile even though it hurt. “She isn’t coming.”

Lunafreya shook her head gently as Prompto, who Ignis had completely forgotten was still standing in the room with them, spoke up around a bite of cake.

“She didn’t call you?” He swallowed the bite, looking awkward. “She almost didn’t call _me_ so I guess that makes sense. Aranea’s taking her to Galdin Quay.”

Ignis listened to him explain that she needed to get across the sea before the ports shut down due to the tropical storms that were predicted to hit the coast for the foreseeable future.

“Excuse me,” he said, ignoring the way Luna and Prompto looked at one another as he took the pie box and left the room. What the hell could they know what _he_ didn’t? Aside from everything, apparently. She sent him a pie but no word of her leaving the country?

A crushing sensation constricted his chest, a burning that lifted upward and into the back of his throat. He remembered the last time she’d left the country without notice. He fought the sickening sense of déjà vu. This wasn’t the same. She must have been on her way to Altissia. That had been her plan for as long as he’d known her.

Not wanting to cause a scene by leaving his party without warning, he stepped into the drawing room for a moment alone. By the look of it, Noct never used the place. Ignis put the pie down and paced for a short stretch of anxious seconds, feeling absurd for rushing out of the kitchen with it now that he was letting himself reflect.

He gave the pie a long look, the tight feeling in his chest not abating like he was hoping. Taking out his phone, unable to help himself, he called her.

“Hey, sorry.” She sounded perfectly apologetic, his Heart. As she should be, leaving him behind on his own birthday. “I probably should’ve sent a note or called about not making it.”

Her voice eased him slightly, and he chuckled. He loved her; he could be happy for her. “That’s quite alright. I heard you had to be out of port before the bad weather.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t lay around my mom’s place forever.”

Ignis smiled warmly to himself. Yes, he could be happy supporting her in this. She was doing something wonderful for herself and her future. “Although I wish I could’ve seen you off, I’m happy you’ve finally decided to follow your dream to Altissia.”

A hesitance on the phone had his smile waning. Her voice came quietly. “Actually, I’m going to Tenebrae. My old boss has a job for me.”

The tightness in his chest, the burning, acidic taste in his throat, it all grew tenfold, consuming him. He sat down in a chair, the words coming out of him in a near choke. “Ah, that’s— wonderful to hear.” He closed his eyes, a grimace coming to him. Was this truly happening? He leaned into the assumption of the worst, hoping she would correct him. “I suppose you’d want to be closer to Lord Ravus, as well.”

“Yeah. It feels kinda crazy, but… I dunno. A high risk move gets a high payout, I guess.” Her happy voice was sandpaper on his frayed nerves; it was salt that blistered and drew water out of an open wound like the air that left him with each word she uttered. “I’m glad I can talk with you about this, Ignis. And I really am sorry for missing your birthday.”

The stones that were his stomach sank, pulling at him thickly until he was slouched in the chair. Another chuckle fell out of him, as hollow as he felt. “As I said, it’s fine.” His words weren’t meant to be clipped, but she didn’t seem to take notice. “Thank you for the pie. It’s as perfect now as it was last time.”

“Good.” Her voice returning to its earlier softness, she sounded so horrendously unbothered by not knowing when or if she’d talk to him again.

He heard a voice in the background calling her name. He— he couldn’t take this. “It sounds like you have to go. Safe travels.”

She thanked him, but he was already hanging up. His hands curled into fists, his jaw clenching. Just what had gone wrong? She’d given him endless hints of her continued interest in him. Never had she been the type to treat him like a game to play around with. He’d thought she still loved him, but if that were true, _why_ was she going back to Tenebrae?

Why in the bloody hell was she choosing Ravus?

—

He walked through his quarters in darkness, knowing the layout down to just how many steps it would take for him to cross the kitchen to dip into a cupboard for a hard drink. He’d been doing so well in recent days, too. Unfortunate.

After one glass down before he could even think her name, he carried a second to the large window in his living room. The streets of Insomnia spread out like veins below, twists and intersections of light that he trailed with his eyes. He heard a door open behind him, followed by the soft sound of someone walking down the hallway.

“About time,” his Regret said. “I’ve been here for hours.”

Ignis didn’t ask how she got in. The golden token that always rested at her neck gained her entrance to many places, and she was no fool. She would’ve figured out where he was hiding eventually.

Turning around, Ignis was grateful that he couldn’t quite see her in the darkness. She was a silhouette, soft edges and curves set against an even deeper darkness that surrounded her. He lifted the glass to his lips, generous in his drink until he realized, a moment late, that he’d finished it all.

Mouth sticky with the liquor, he bent to put it down at an end table. “Here to give me the necklace?”

She gasped quietly, as if this wasn’t what he’d been demanding of her for the past month. “No.”

He took a step toward her, his mouth a hard, sharp frown that she was unlikely able to see. Another step, and he was looking down at her, _just_ making out the shape of her face. With the alcohol burning in his chest, clouding his mind, he thought she could look like his Heart. Until she opened her mouth.

“You can’t intimidate me, Ignis.” She moved slightly, and he thought she must’ve crossed her arms. “Try me.”

He shook his head, not giving in to her attempt at starting a fight. Fighting with her would imply that he still cared, and that was no longer the case. His entire body felt raw, as empty as his aching stomach. He rose a hand, touching her cheek. Astrals, she really did look like his Heart after a few drinks.

She leaned into his touch, but he dropped his hand and turned away. “If you’re not here to end things,” he said as he sat down on his sofa, taking off his glasses to leave them on his coffee table and rub at his eyes. “Get the hell out of my quarters.”

He heard her scoff and the sound of her stepping over the floorboards, but his reflexes kicked in when she dove toward him. She landed on his lap, her manicured nails scratching as they grabbed at the shoulders of his shirt. He tore her hands off, gripping them firmly at the wrists. Tighter than was necessary, even he knew.

“I was there for you,” she hissed, trying to scratch at him again. His grip was too strong, and he forced her hands to her sides. Her legs squeezed around him; her thighs were a thick vice over his own. Ignis could’ve fought her off better, and they both knew it. Her breathing had grown heavy in her anger, her panting the loudest sound in the darkness. “She only ever wanted you when she was fucked up.”

Ignis’ hold on her wrists tightened, and she tried to jerk out of his grip unsuccessfully. He hated what she said because all of it was true.

She whimpered a little under his grip, her voice coming out through clenched teeth. “Planning to hurt me like you hurt her?” She jerked against him again, this time falling forward, her head landing on his shoulder. Immediately, her tactics changed, and she spoke her next sentence against the skin of his neck. “I’ll have your county in no time if you’re publicly disgraced, sweetheart.”

She moved her hips in a slow grind against him. He remained still as she pressed her breasts against him, her tongue sliming its way up his neck and behind his ear. For a few moments, he could pretend he was with his Heart, that she’d chosen _him._ His cock came to life, and he let her shift against him to coax it into a firm state that strained in his trousers. But her scent was wrong. The pitch of her soft moan was wrong. All of it was completely and terribly wrong.

He forced her away, turning to his side just enough to push her back against the sofa cushions. Her smaller hands twisted, shifting in his grip, and she dug her nails into the tender skin of his wrists.

“Why isn’t _she_ here with you, huh? She’s out letting _anyone else_ fuck her, I bet.” Her nails bore deeper, pricks of pain on his hands and wrists that were nothing in comparison to his physical training. Her words, though, they lit a fire in him.

He snarled, letting go of her hands to bring one of his to her neck and the other to his belt. He felt the cold of the necklace against his wrist as he caught a firm grip of her throat. When he let go to instead rip it off of her —just to be done with this entire fucking charade— her hands came to his forearm in a desperate grip.

“I’d rather you choked me,” she gasped, drawing his hand further up her neck, his palm resting at her throat.

He was unmoving above her for a beat, looking down at the vague shape of her in the darkness. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t pretend that she was his Heart, not now. She was too much his Regret, even in the vaguest sense, which was all he had to justify his actions.

He squeezed her neck, a rush of adrenaline filling him at the power she was letting him hold over her. She shifted underneath him; sliding out of her panties, he realized when she tossed them aside. Her breathing was labored, but she didn’t fight the weight of him above her.

Ignis ground his teeth when she finished undoing his belt for him, her legs spreading and knees bending to invite him closer. He grasped at her skirt, forcing it up and twisting the fabric in his fist as she freed his cock from the constraint of his pants.

She tried to tease at him, gasping for air while her hand made clumsy motions over his shaft before lining him up. He entered her without preparation, and it pulled, a slight sting at certain points of his cock as he filled her. The feel of her around him, coupled with his murky perception and thoughts, made him dizzy.

He bore more weight on her neck, his other hand grabbing her thigh to lift it as he drove himself in and out of her at a relentless pace. No buildup. Just raw fucking. If he let himself stop to think, he was certain he would want to end himself. The sting abated after several thrusts, giving way to wet warmth that he slammed into with little thought.

She moaned beneath him in disconnected breaths, writhing and wrapping her legs around his waist. His grip tightened on her neck further, eyes falling shut as he focused on the single feeling of his cock sliding into her with long, hard jerks of his hips against hers. She was so tight around him, he lost himself in the act, all ragged breath and sweat dripping down his brow.

She began to scratch at his wrist, an attempt to pry his hand from her throat as she choked, but he didn’t let up, fucking her harder, the clasp of his belt digging painfully sharp into his thigh. That point of pain was his new focus, and mixed with the sick pleasure of her body against his, he found it was what he deserved.

When he came, it was with the same gut-wrenching level of dissatisfaction that he’d always felt with her. A hot, searing shame pooled in his mind and heart while his seed pooled into her with the remaining thrusts. His hand was tense, fingers taut when he let go of her neck, removing himself from her entirely.

He walked to the bathroom to wash himself, locking the door behind him without a word. The light made him blink to adjust his eyes once he switched it on. He frowned at his reflection, disgusted by his ruffled countenance and the waning arousal that still hang from his open trousers.

He wiped himself off and tucked himself away, washing his hands as tears began to well in his eyes. He made no sound to indicate when he’d begun to cry, keeping his breathing even and his expression hard. It happened so rarely, he didn’t know what to do with himself like this.

For the first time in his life, he had no idea what to do at all.

Drying his hands, he used the hand towel to wipe at his wet, teary face. Pathetic. Barbaric. Loathsome. He considered himself all of these things tonight.

A knock at his door made him start, disrupting his mental beratement. His Regret kept a soft tone, as if they hadn’t just coupled like mere beasts only moments before. “Are you coming to bed?”

Unsurprising that she’d assume she was staying. Why wouldn’t she? He’d indulged in her body. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d used it against him, and as Ignis turned off the light and left the bathroom, he didn’t think it would be the last.

In his room, he undressed and climbed into bed, letting his Regret bring herself close to him. His Heart’s voice kept playing on repeat in his mind, a new line this time. He wondered how long he’d be repressing this one.

_A high risk move gets a high payout._

His Regret buried her face into his chest with a whisper. “Let’s not fight anymore.”

Ignis, as of today, had been alive for a quarter of a century so far, but that fact wasn’t what had him going to sleep with dried tears on his face. He closed his eyes tightly, the alcohol roiling in his empty stomach. His quarters at the Citadel were spacious enough that he could perfectly hear the screaming silence, the void that was now his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Literally no one asked for this much angst so thanks for reading.


End file.
